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Pamela Anderson / Magic / Tickling Story

For Rockauthor: Hope it "does the job". For Everyone: Please give feedback if you enjoyed or not. Details are especially helpful!

CARING FOR THE SOLE

Pamela Anderson was in a really bad mood when her alarm went off at 3:45 am for a particularly early Baywatch shoot. The day before had been a bitch; she was in the water for about five hours total and actually got bit by some kind of crab-thingy. Speaking of biting, she had also gotten so angry yesterday that she almost bit David Hasselhoff’s head off about some trivial thing. Pam groped around for her clothes—no time for breakfast—and cursed softly thinking about how today looked to be just as grueling.

Backing out of her driveway, she popped a CD into the player, pressed play, waited and heard nothing. After pressing every available button at least three times she decided it was broken. “Damn. This is not my week. You’d think my service guy would take better care of a TV star.”

The weather was good, warm, especially for such an early hour. The rest of the trip to the set was uneventful, but she felt a combination of confusion and annoyance as she pulled into the parking lot near the Baywatch beach. There was one vehicle in the lot, a security truck, and absolutely nothing else. As she got out of the car she saw Bill, a guard she knew, walking toward her.

“Uh, there is a 5:00 shoot—but it’s 5 pm, ma’am.” He winced on her behalf. “I’m sorry. Didn’t they say anything about it being a night shoot today?”

“You’re kidding, right Bill? I can’t believe this.” But as she thought back, she remembered David saying something about pulling an “all-nighter”. With that crab-bite and everything else she hadn’t paid much attention to scheduling yesterday. Lately she had been feeling like every shoot was almost an all-nighter.

“I’ll show you the printed shoot schedule if you like,” Bill offered. Seeing her shake her head, ‘no’, he asked, “Is there anything I can do for you?”

Pamela was about to shake her head again when a thought occurred that brought the first smile of the day to her lips. “Bill, I’m going to take a private little swim.”

“Now Ms. Anderson, you know that’s not allowed. It’s a closed beach when they’re not shooting and, the main thing is, there’s no lifeguard.”

When Pam saw that the ‘leading lady’ approach wasn’t working, she switched tactics. “Oh, cummon, Bill. If you knew the day I had yesterday…and I drove all the way out here for nothing. I won’t even swim, I’ll just wade a little. Besides,” she flashed a huge smile and put one hand on her hip, “I am a lifeguard, remember. One of the best,” she added in a low, mock-threatening voice.

Bill stared at her for a moment. “I’ll give you 30 minutes. If you aren’t back by then I’ll call the police on you,” he smiled.

“Oh thanks Bill! Thank you!” She gave him a peck on the cheek as she walked past. The fake smile always gets ‘em, she thought.

Pamela stripped down to the orange bathing suit she had worn under her ‘street clothes’ to save time. She stretched her arms above her head and then reached down to pick up her bundle of clothes and her socks and shoes.

Walking down toward the water, Pam felt the exhaustion of the last few days crashing in on her. She laid down on the sand, shortly before where it got moist. She was lying on her stomach, facing the water and resting her head on her crossed arms for a pillow. As she got comfortable, she stretched out her legs and dug her toes into the sand making ten tiny furrows behind her feet. She loved having the beach all to herself.

After a minute, though, with the ocean breeze kicking up, Pam felt a bit chilled. She sat up and reach for her clothes. She threw on her red T-shirt and then decided to put on the thin running socks she had worn today. She laid back down and quickly fell asleep.

But what seemed only a few seconds later, Pam heard someone calling her name. At first she thought it was Bill, but the sound was coming from the direction of the ocean. With great reluctance she raised her head, looked up and what she saw brought her to full consciousness.

In front of her was a little man—or at least he looked like a man, but he was smaller than any man she had ever seen, except for that “little person” she worked with once on a movie about three years before. This man was probably four feet tall. But stranger than his height were several other things about him: His hair was somewhere between blue and green; his eyes were a very peculiar grey and he was wearing a kind of cloak or robe. The robe was pale-green colored with flecks of silver all through it. Seeing him was shocking, of course, but somehow she didn’t have the sense that he was dangerous. The weirdest part, however, was that he appeared to be standing on the water, about 10 feet out.

“Now you are up?” the odd man asked.

“Yes, I think—-I’m not dreaming, am I?” Pam said, dazed.

He laughed. “Often this is said in my presence. I hear this much. No, this is what you call ‘the real thing,’” you could hear him put quotation marks around the phrase.

“Who are you? Are you human?” She was still not convinced she was awake. Or maybe all this work was driving her crazy. Really crazy.

“I am Gwork. Both my name and my kind. I come to…make corrections. This is what I do.”

Pam thought about his voice. He obviously had a strange way of speaking; his accent sounded sort of Irish, but at the same time, like he was from India. “OK, I’ll go with this for a minute. What kind of corrections do you make? Are you like a leprechaun?” Pam got excited for a moment as she fantasized about rainbows and pots of gold, then shook it off. That’s ridiculous, she thought. What’s wrong with me? Can this be real?

“Known a few, but I am Gwork. We are summoned by folks who are deep in the Nubbles. People who are filled with bad nerves and bad feelings—those who are hurting themselves and others. I come to…help.”

“So you are here to help me with my stress?” Pam said sarcastically. “And I suppose this ‘help’ involves my taking off my clothes.” As she felt more awake she was starting to get angry at this guy— or whatever he was. She glanced again at his shoes on top of the water. “I’ve gotta say, this is most original approach I’ve ever seen.”

“Removing clothes? Could be. It all depends on the Ring.”

“What ring?” Pam asked.

At that, the Gwork raised his left arm and a bright, white ring, a simple band, began to float off of his index finger and to head straight for Pam. Upon reaching her it stopped, hovering at chest height.

“Lift your left hand, please,” the man said softly, but firmly.

“Why? Why should I? This isn’t even real.” Pam protested

“It is real. It will not cause pain. Be not afraid. I am here to correct you.”

“Yeah, I remember,” Pam said. She looked at his eyes. Can he be trusted? she wondered. “OK, fine. It’s just a ring.”

She raised her left hand and the ring quickly went around her first finger. It stayed for hardly a moment and then floated back to the Gwork’s hand the same way it had come. As the ring encircled his own finger, the Gwork closed his eyes and seemed to be saying something.

“Interesting,” he said softly. “Pamela,” using her name for the first time, “You are deep in the Nubbles. When this happens, a Gwork can appear to smooth them out. Such is my task this day. I am a kind of…physician. I have searched you out with the Soul Ring and know your treatment. Each treatment is different. Each soul needs a different correction.”

“Listen, friend. I appreciate the offer, but I’m not looking for any ‘treatments’ right now. If I’m not outta here in about 5 minutes, police will be all over this place.” She looked back over her shoulder and could just make out Bill moving around at his station. She wondered if she should scream, but she felt she could handle this midget or whatever he was, if it came to getting physical. She had taken many self-defense classes.

“Time will not be at issue and it is not for you to choose,” he said a bit sternly. “Many do not understand their need of the Gwork, but when all is complete, you will be better. It is done.”

As he finished speaking, the Gwork was suddenly standing beside her on the beach. She noticed that there was a thin, clear film of what looked like plastic all around them, encircling them like a transparent tent. Pam turned around and saw Bill’s head poking out of his station, looking in her direction. After a few moments she realized Bill was looking and looking and not moving. He seemed frozen.

As if reading her thoughts, the Gwork said, “All that is outside the time cloak is in the ‘now’, but we are in the ‘not-yet’. We are on a plane apart. No one will disturb us.” The Gwork then raised his right hand and drew a line in the air. Pam suddenly felt her body begin to lie down in the sand. Her legs and shoulders were acting on their own, then her arms. She was flat out on her back. She tested herself: her back felt pinned, but she could move her arms, legs and head. She most definitely could not get up.

“The Soul Ring has seen it. You require release from the Nubbles. You don’t go lightly on your path, rather, you hurt yourself and those around you. You must therefore endure the touch of true laughter.

“What was that? Don’t you dare touch me! Are you some kind of pervert?”

“The Ring has seen it. We will begin.” He drew four little circles in the air and Pam felt like her wrists and ankles were suddenly pulled down and held to the sand. Apparently they were. The Gwork bent down at Pamela’s side and placed his ring on her stomach, then he moved it up to her ribcage. “These sites are not the most sensitive, but it is good for a beginning.”

Without further ado, the Gwork lifted her T-shirt and exposed her firm, smooth stomach. Her abdominal muscles were faintly visible. Then he started wriggling his small, but thick fingers lightly over Pam’s belly. To Pamela’s shock, she realized he was tickling her. He worked very intently.

“Now cut this out! You have no right to haha do this! I’ll sue!” Pam yelled. His fingers felt very powerful, like they contained hidden powers.

He pressed into her sides. With an edge of fear Pam said, “I’m haa-aardly ticklish at all, you know. I don’t caa-aare what that ring says.” She felt him gently probing for a reaction, like a doctor testing an injury. Then he hit a certain spot. “Hey, HA no, NO! Hahahahahaha, waitaminute, hahahahahaha, please, hehehehehe.” Pam tried to get up, to pull her arms free, but she was stuck tight in some manner she couldn’t begin to understand.

Finding the tickle-spot, the Gwork worked with it. “Nooooooo, hahahahahahaha, I don’t,” Pam was squirming to avoid his fingers. “Hehehe, hahahahahahaha, not there, I can’t, hehehehehehehehehehehehehehe,” Her voice rose in pitch as he exploited his discovery.

Pam’s ample breasts were bouncing slightly as she giggled. The Gwork moved his hands nearer to them, right on top of her ribs which he could feel very distinctly. He scraped his hands like two rakes down both sides of her ribcage. “Oh God, no, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, OH NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” She was laughing louder now as he went from tracing the ribs themselves to doing the spaces between the ribs.

“At times, this treatment requires playing with words,” the Gwork said as he slowed the tickling down. “Pamela,” he started to speak in a kind of sing-song way, “I-see-a-little-bunny-hole-in-an-open-field.” And with that the Gwork began to walk two fingers across her stomach toward her belly button. “Here-comes-the-bunny-now-wanting-to-go-home.”

Pam couldn’t believe what was happening. This guy must be insane, she thought. Now he’s talking about bunnies! I’ve just got to control myself. God, I’m a top Hollywood star. But her eyes grew very wide as she saw the two fingers inching toward her belly-button. She steeled herself and took a deep breath as the ‘bunny’ approach his ‘hole’.

She said, “I won’t be laughing anyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeeeeiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii,” The Gwork pressed both fingers into the round little depression and swirled them around. “No, no, no, no,” Pam barked, “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO, shiiiiiiit, hahahahahahaha, stoooooooooooooop!! Pam’s limbs were shaking as she tried in vain to break through her invisible bonds. He ‘hopped’ his fingers in and out of the belly-button sending her into a fit of loud screams mixed with helpless laughter.

This tickling of Pam’s waist, sides, and ribs, continued for another 10 minutes. Then, surprisingly, the Gwork said, “How do you feel, Pamela?”

She tried to catch her breathe. “How…do…I feel? Are you…nuts? I’m lying here being…tickled senseless by a ….‘Gwork’. How do you think I feel?!!” she finally found the breath to yell. “If you stop right now, I won’t press charges!!”

“Pamela,” he said calmly, “You have not received my words. This will continue until we have smoothed the Nubbles out. No one can stop this or interfere. It is for the good of others and of your own soul. Perceive your need for correction. I must move on to the root of your sensitivity so that you might change your ways.”

Pam didn’t like the sound of the words, ‘root of her sensitivity’.

He shifted positions and put the ring on her left underarm. “Strong, but it’s not enough.” Then he put it on her neck. “Also good, but weaker.” Finally he got up and moved down to her feet.

The Gwork placed the ring on the big toe of her right foot, pushing it over her white running sock and then watching it for a moment. “Oh my,” the Gwork said, sounding slightly amused, “I believe we may have found what we were looking for. I don’t even need to remove the socks…yet.”

With total focus the Gwork brought both hands to bear on Pam’s right foot running his fingertips rapidly across her sock-covered sole like a pianist playing only the white keys. Her foot flexed spasmodically and she let out gasps of sound, “Not theeeeeeeeeeeere!! OHNO-NO-NO-NOOOOOOOOOOOO.” She was banging the part of her right leg that could move against the ground—anything to offset the incredible feeling shooting through her nerve endings. “Iiiiiiiiiiiiii, c-c-caaaaaaaaaaaaaan’t taaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaake, HAHAHAHAHAHA eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.”

The Gwork moved one hand to her left foot and on both feet touched the area just under her toes. He held his four finger tips together and like a machine moved them back and forth in that sensitive spot. P-P-Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaase, hahahahahahaha, IT’S TOO MUCH!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, MR. GWOOOOOOOOOOOOOORK!” A few tears squeezed out the corners of Pam’s eye’s from the laughter.

Switching tactics, the little man took both his thumbs and placed them against Pam’s heels. He paused and then in one swift motion he raced his short thumbnails up the sole and over the length of each foot to the toes. “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. I-caaaaaaaaa-n’t!!! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!!” Again and again he found and tantalized some deep foot reflex making Pam shout to heaven and making her toes almost pop off her feet.

“I sense we have nearly arrived,” the Gwork said proudly. He stopped tickling, reached over and grabbed Pam’s socks at the toes. Slowly, as if for effect, he began to pull them from her feet. He watched her face as the socks gently caressed their owner.

Pam started to panic as she saw her socks moving away from her. She watched as the smooth skin of her well-kept feet came into view and imagined how much worse it would be when the Gwork’s unstoppable fingers came into contact with her soft, bare flesh. “Mr. Gwork…sir, please, I…can’t handle this. You win. I’ll give you…whatever you want. I have money, cars,” she thought for a moment, “I can get you a part in a series! Just don’t touch my bare feet!!”

“Dear child, I only want one thing…”

“What? Anything!” Pam jumped in.

“I want you to laugh, laugh and let go…”

And with that he touched the center of Pam’s arches with each hand and made the lightest, quickest, most tickly little crawling motions all over them. Pam screamed,
“Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Then a deeper, harder, longer laugh than anything so far welled up from the pit of her belly, “HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA OOOOOHMYYYYYYYYGOOOOOOOD.”

“That’s right Pamela, release the Nubbles, smooth them out! Renounce your angry, bitter ways!” He increased the speed of his movements and, as the minutes passed, used a variety of carefully chosen tickle techniques on both the bottoms and tops of Pam’s lovely feet. He got incredibly strong reactions when he stroked his finger back and forth between her big toe and the one next to it.

As all her toes wriggled uncontrollably, she fought to get out words. “I-I-I dooon’t knooow whaaaaaaaaaaaaaat…aaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.” The Gwork pressed harder and hit several particularly touchy points on her right and left insteps. Pamela began shaking her head from side to side. She was getting somewhat hoarse from the sounds being forced through her throat by the mere movement of skin on skin at the other end of her body. Her mouth was open as far as it could go and you could see almost every one of her beautifully white teeth. Her blond bangs were sweaty and matted against her forehead.

Pam had reached a breaking point. The world was swirling around her. She was completely flooded with the ticklish sensations. In the next moment she felt all the resistance, all the fighting, flow up and out of her. “I-I-I-I-I-I, HEHEHEHEHEHEHE, give UUUUUUUUUUUUUP!!! IIIIIIIIIIII’LL CHAAAAAAAAAAAAANGE, I’LL CHANGE, HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I’LL CHANGE!!! STOOOOOOOOOP IT! HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE, PLEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAASE!

Suddenly, Pam felt a strange warmth fill her entire body. The tickling had ceased. She lay there on the sand for several minutes, utterly still except for an occasional giggle that bubbled up from the memory of tickles just concluded. Although exhausted, she was unbelievably relaxed—especially considering what she had just been through. As she opened her eyes and looked at herself, she thought her skin appeared to glow slightly. A pleasant, contented grin appeared on her lips. The Gwork was now standing behind her head and she found she could lift her arms and that, in fact, she could sit up, which she slowly did and turned around to face him.

“Pamela, your treatment is ended. The Nubbles have been smoothed. But you must keep them clean and clear, day by day, otherwise more…correction may be required. You know the way you must proceed. When I depart you will not be aware of our…session, but your soul will remember.”

Before she could say a word, the Gwork clapped his hands.

***

“Ms. Anderson,” Bill said as he bent down to shake her shoulder, “Ms. Anderson, I gave you an extra 10 minutes, but it’s time to go now.

Pam heard him and recognized his voice. She felt as if she was returning from a long trip, but she was thoroughly rested. Wow, she thought, I should take more naps. She sprung to her feet, scooped up the remaining clothes beside her and gave Bill a quick, but firm kiss on the lips.

“That’s for being such a sweetie,” she said and felt surprised how much she really meant it.

“You look a little sweated up, Ms. Anderson. I didn’t see you exercising out here.”

Beautiful!!!

What an amazing story, dude! I really enjoy it. It had everything I enjoy in a magical tickling story! Keep up the great work! I'll post this one on my site, in the meantime. Thanx again for your time and effort.

Thank you, Rock. I worked hard to match your "parameters". It is also a major compliment that you would put my story on your site.

Would you consider composing some of your stories with the following elements?

--Like you, I also enjoy when an arrogant or haughty or naughty celeb gets the tickling she deserves. But to me, an essential part of the character of such a woman is that she would do anything not to appear ticklish or not to submit to the tickling sensations. That is why it really doesn't work for me when such a woman totally breaks down at the slightest little touch and starts immediately screaming and pleading that she is "horribly ticklish" and that she "just can't stand it".

--Let's see some girls with a bit of backbone, who deny they are ticklish, who put up some resistance to the tickling. Let's hear their thoughts as they struggle to keep themselves under control. Let's make the ticklers WORK for the grand prize of bringing a strong, beautiful woman under their tickling power. If it's too easy, it's not much of a victory.

Wow, assassin, a nine-year call-back. That may be the longest I've ever seen...and it's my story! I'm very glad you liked it (although how in the world did you find it? are you a big P. A. fan and searched for her?). It was one of my first stories, written, as you see, upon request.